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Nevaeh Hard to Let Go Quotes
Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
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Marcel Ray Duriez0 ratings, 0.00 average rating, 0 reviews
Nevaeh Hard to Let Go Quotes
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“The street was very narrow, paved with the same shades of color as the faded cinnamon-brown buildings that darkened the street with their shade. It was like an alley.
Many red flags decorated the walls, spaced a few meters apart, flapping in the wind that whistled in the narrow alley. There were a lot of people, and the foot traffic slowed our progress.
'A little further,' Olivia encouraged me; I was clinging to the doorknob, ready to throw myself in the street as soon as she said the word.”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
Many red flags decorated the walls, spaced a few meters apart, flapping in the wind that whistled in the narrow alley. There were a lot of people, and the foot traffic slowed our progress.
'A little further,' Olivia encouraged me; I was clinging to the doorknob, ready to throw myself in the street as soon as she said the word.”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
“I pressed my eyes more tightly shut. I was still dreaming, it seemed, and it felt abnormally real. I was so close to waking… any second now, and it would be gone. All the same and all, I recognized that it felt too real, too real to be good for me. The stone arms I imagined wrapped encompassing me were far too abundant. If I let this go any further, I'd be melancholy for it later. With a resigned sigh, I yanked back my eyelids to dispel the delusion.
‘Oh!’ I gasped and threw my fists over my eyes.
Well, I'd gone too far; it must have been a mistake to let my imagination get so out of hand.”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
‘Oh!’ I gasped and threw my fists over my eyes.
Well, I'd gone too far; it must have been a mistake to let my imagination get so out of hand.”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
“The story claims he was martyred in Rockville, still trying to drive away from the angel scourge.
Of course, that's nonsense-he's never left the city. But that's where some of the superstitions about things like crosses and garlic come from. Father Marcellus used them so successfully. And angels don't trouble Volterra, so they must work.’ Her smile was sardonic. ‘It's become more of a celebration of the city, and recognition for the police force-after all, Volterra is an amazingly safe city.
‘The police get the credit.”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
Of course, that's nonsense-he's never left the city. But that's where some of the superstitions about things like crosses and garlic come from. Father Marcellus used them so successfully. And angels don't trouble Volterra, so they must work.’ Her smile was sardonic. ‘It's become more of a celebration of the city, and recognition for the police force-after all, Volterra is an amazingly safe city.
‘The police get the credit.”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
“Breath!’ A voice, wild with anxiety, ordered, and I felt a cruel stab of pain where I recognized the voice because it wasn't Marcel’s.
I could not obey. The waterfall pouring from my mouth didn't stop long enough for me to catch a breath. The black, icy water filled my chest, burning.
The rock smacked into my back again, right between my shoulder blades, and another volley of water choked its way out of my lungs.
‘Breathe, Bell! C'mon!’ Marcel begged.
Black spots bloomed across my vision, getting wider and wider, blocking out the light.
The rock struck me again.
The rock wasn't cold like the water; it was hot on my skin. I realized it was Marcel’s hand, trying to beat the water from my lungs. The iron bar that had dragged me from the sea was also… warm… My head whirled; the black spots covered everything…
Was I dying again, then? I didn't like it. This wasn't as good as the last time. It was only dark now, nothing worth looking at here. The sound of the crashing waves faded into the black and became a quiet, even whoosh that sounded like it was coming from the inside of my ears…
‘Bell?’ Marcel asked, his voice still tense, but not as wild as before. ‘Bells, honey, can you hear me?’
The contents of my head swished and rolled sickeningly like they'd joined the rough water…
‘How long has she been unconscious?’ someone else asked.
The voice that was not Marcel’s shocked me, jarred me into a more focused awareness.
I realized that I was still. There was no tug of the current on me-the heaving was inside my head. The surface under me was flat and motionless. It felt grainy against my bear arms.
‘I don't know,’ Marcel reported, still frantic. His voice was very close. Hands-so warm they had to be his- I brushed wet hair from my cheeks. ‘A few minutes? It didn't take long to tow her to the beach.’ The quiet whooshing inside my ears was not the waves-it was the air moving in and out of my lungs again. Each breath burned-the passageways were as raw as if I'd scrubbed them out with steel wool. But I was breathing.
And I was freezing. A thousand sharp, icy beads were striking my face and arms, making the cold worse.
‘She's breathing. She'll come around. We should get her out of the cold, though. I don't like the color she's turning…’ I recognized Sam's voice this time.
‘You think it's okay to move her?’
‘She didn't hurt her back or anything when she fell?’
‘I don't know.’
They hesitated.”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
I could not obey. The waterfall pouring from my mouth didn't stop long enough for me to catch a breath. The black, icy water filled my chest, burning.
The rock smacked into my back again, right between my shoulder blades, and another volley of water choked its way out of my lungs.
‘Breathe, Bell! C'mon!’ Marcel begged.
Black spots bloomed across my vision, getting wider and wider, blocking out the light.
The rock struck me again.
The rock wasn't cold like the water; it was hot on my skin. I realized it was Marcel’s hand, trying to beat the water from my lungs. The iron bar that had dragged me from the sea was also… warm… My head whirled; the black spots covered everything…
Was I dying again, then? I didn't like it. This wasn't as good as the last time. It was only dark now, nothing worth looking at here. The sound of the crashing waves faded into the black and became a quiet, even whoosh that sounded like it was coming from the inside of my ears…
‘Bell?’ Marcel asked, his voice still tense, but not as wild as before. ‘Bells, honey, can you hear me?’
The contents of my head swished and rolled sickeningly like they'd joined the rough water…
‘How long has she been unconscious?’ someone else asked.
The voice that was not Marcel’s shocked me, jarred me into a more focused awareness.
I realized that I was still. There was no tug of the current on me-the heaving was inside my head. The surface under me was flat and motionless. It felt grainy against my bear arms.
‘I don't know,’ Marcel reported, still frantic. His voice was very close. Hands-so warm they had to be his- I brushed wet hair from my cheeks. ‘A few minutes? It didn't take long to tow her to the beach.’ The quiet whooshing inside my ears was not the waves-it was the air moving in and out of my lungs again. Each breath burned-the passageways were as raw as if I'd scrubbed them out with steel wool. But I was breathing.
And I was freezing. A thousand sharp, icy beads were striking my face and arms, making the cold worse.
‘She's breathing. She'll come around. We should get her out of the cold, though. I don't like the color she's turning…’ I recognized Sam's voice this time.
‘You think it's okay to move her?’
‘She didn't hurt her back or anything when she fell?’
‘I don't know.’
They hesitated.”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
“I thought briefly of the clichés, about how you were supposed to see your life flash before your eyes. I was so much luckier. Who wanted to see a rerun, anyway?
I saw him, and I had no will to fight. It was so clear, so much more defined than any memory.
My subconscious had stored Marcel away in flawless detail, saving him for this final moment. I could see his perfect face as if he were there, the exact shade of his icy skin, the shape of his lips, the line of his jaw, the gold glinting in his furious eyes. He was angry, naturally, that I was giving up. His teeth were clenched, and his nostrils flared with rage.
‘No! Bell, no!’
My ears were flooded with the freezing water, but his voice was clearer than ever. I ignored his words and concentrated on the sound of his voice. Why would I fight when I was so happy where I was? Even as my lungs burned for more air and my legs cramped in the icy cold, I was content. I'd forgotten what real happiness felt like.
Happiness. It made the whole dying thing bearable.
The current one at that moment, shoving me abruptly against something hard, a rock invisible in the gloom. It hit me solidly across the chest, slamming into me like an iron bar, and the breath whooshed out of my lungs, escaping in a thick cloud of silver bubbles. Water flooded down my throat, choking and burning. The iron bar seemed to be dragging me, pulling me away from Marcel, deeper into the dark, to the ocean floor.
Goodbye, I love you, was my last thought.
PARIS AT THAT MOMENT, MY HEAD BROKE THE SURFACE.”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
I saw him, and I had no will to fight. It was so clear, so much more defined than any memory.
My subconscious had stored Marcel away in flawless detail, saving him for this final moment. I could see his perfect face as if he were there, the exact shade of his icy skin, the shape of his lips, the line of his jaw, the gold glinting in his furious eyes. He was angry, naturally, that I was giving up. His teeth were clenched, and his nostrils flared with rage.
‘No! Bell, no!’
My ears were flooded with the freezing water, but his voice was clearer than ever. I ignored his words and concentrated on the sound of his voice. Why would I fight when I was so happy where I was? Even as my lungs burned for more air and my legs cramped in the icy cold, I was content. I'd forgotten what real happiness felt like.
Happiness. It made the whole dying thing bearable.
The current one at that moment, shoving me abruptly against something hard, a rock invisible in the gloom. It hit me solidly across the chest, slamming into me like an iron bar, and the breath whooshed out of my lungs, escaping in a thick cloud of silver bubbles. Water flooded down my throat, choking and burning. The iron bar seemed to be dragging me, pulling me away from Marcel, deeper into the dark, to the ocean floor.
Goodbye, I love you, was my last thought.
PARIS AT THAT MOMENT, MY HEAD BROKE THE SURFACE.”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
“I screamed as I dropped through the open air like a meteor, but it was a scream of exhilaration and not fear. The wind resisted, trying vainly to fight the unconquerable gravity, pushing against me, and twirling me in spirals like a rocket crashing to the earth.
Yes! The word echoed through my head as I sliced through the surface of the water. It was icy, colder than I'd feared, and yet the chill only added to the high.
I was proud of myself as I plunged deeper into the freezing black water. I hadn't had one moment of terror-just pure adrenaline. The fall wasn't scary at all. Where was the challenge?
That was when the current caught me.
I'd been so preoccupied with the size of the cliffs, by the obvious danger of their high, sheer faces, that I hadn't worried at all about the dark water waiting. I never dreamed that the true menace was lurking far below me, under the heaving surf.
It felt like the waves were fighting over me, jerking me back and forth between them as if determined to share by pulling me into halves. I knew the right way to avoid a riptide: swim parallel to the beach rather than struggling for the shore. But the knowledge did me little good when I didn't know which way the shore was.
I couldn't even tell which way the surface was.
The angry water was black in every direction; there was no brightness to direct me upward. Gravity was all-powerful when it competed with the air, but it had nothing on the waves- I couldn't feel a downward pull, a sinking in any direction. Just the battering of the current that flung me round and round like a rag doll.
I fought to keep my breath in, to keep my lips locked around my last store of oxygen.”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
Yes! The word echoed through my head as I sliced through the surface of the water. It was icy, colder than I'd feared, and yet the chill only added to the high.
I was proud of myself as I plunged deeper into the freezing black water. I hadn't had one moment of terror-just pure adrenaline. The fall wasn't scary at all. Where was the challenge?
That was when the current caught me.
I'd been so preoccupied with the size of the cliffs, by the obvious danger of their high, sheer faces, that I hadn't worried at all about the dark water waiting. I never dreamed that the true menace was lurking far below me, under the heaving surf.
It felt like the waves were fighting over me, jerking me back and forth between them as if determined to share by pulling me into halves. I knew the right way to avoid a riptide: swim parallel to the beach rather than struggling for the shore. But the knowledge did me little good when I didn't know which way the shore was.
I couldn't even tell which way the surface was.
The angry water was black in every direction; there was no brightness to direct me upward. Gravity was all-powerful when it competed with the air, but it had nothing on the waves- I couldn't feel a downward pull, a sinking in any direction. Just the battering of the current that flung me round and round like a rag doll.
I fought to keep my breath in, to keep my lips locked around my last store of oxygen.”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
“Bye, Maggie.’ I pulled his hand from my hair and kissed his palm. I couldn't bear to look at his face. ‘Sorry,’ I whispered.
Then I spun and raced for the car. The door on the passenger side was open and waiting. I threw my backpack over the headrest and slid in, slamming the door behind me. ‘Take care of Mr. Anderson!’ I turned to shout out the window, but Marcel was nowhere in sight.
As Olivia stomped on the gas and with the tires screeching like human screams-spun us around to face the road, I caught sight of a shred of white near the edge of the trees. A piece of a shoe. HATE- WE MADE OUR FLIGHT WITH SECONDS TO SPARE, AND THEN the true torture began.
The plane sat idle on the tarmac while the flight attendants strolling-so casually- up and down the aisle, patting the bags in the overhead compartments to make sure everything fit. The pilots leaned out of the cockpit, chatting with them as they passed.
Olivia's hand was hard on my shoulder, holding me in my seat while I bounced anxiously up and down.
‘It's faster than running,’ she reminded me in a muffled voice.
I just nodded in time with my bouncing.”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
Then I spun and raced for the car. The door on the passenger side was open and waiting. I threw my backpack over the headrest and slid in, slamming the door behind me. ‘Take care of Mr. Anderson!’ I turned to shout out the window, but Marcel was nowhere in sight.
As Olivia stomped on the gas and with the tires screeching like human screams-spun us around to face the road, I caught sight of a shred of white near the edge of the trees. A piece of a shoe. HATE- WE MADE OUR FLIGHT WITH SECONDS TO SPARE, AND THEN the true torture began.
The plane sat idle on the tarmac while the flight attendants strolling-so casually- up and down the aisle, patting the bags in the overhead compartments to make sure everything fit. The pilots leaned out of the cockpit, chatting with them as they passed.
Olivia's hand was hard on my shoulder, holding me in my seat while I bounced anxiously up and down.
‘It's faster than running,’ she reminded me in a muffled voice.
I just nodded in time with my bouncing.”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
“Olivia was back for the moment, but that changed nothing. True love was forever lost. The prince was never coming back to kiss me awake from my enchanted sleep. I was not a princess. So, what was the fairy-tale protocol for other kisses? The mundane kind that didn't break any spells.
It would be easy-like holding his hand or having his arms around me. It would feel nice. It wouldn't feel like a betrayal. Besides, who was I betraying, anyway? Just myself.
Keeping his eyes on mine, Marcel began to bend his face toward me. And I was still undecided.
The shrill ring of the phone made us both jump- but it did not break his focus. He took his hand from under my chin and reached over me to grab the receiver, but still held my face securely with the hand against my cheek. His dark eyes did not free mine. I was too muddled to react, even to take advantage of the distraction.”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
It would be easy-like holding his hand or having his arms around me. It would feel nice. It wouldn't feel like a betrayal. Besides, who was I betraying, anyway? Just myself.
Keeping his eyes on mine, Marcel began to bend his face toward me. And I was still undecided.
The shrill ring of the phone made us both jump- but it did not break his focus. He took his hand from under my chin and reached over me to grab the receiver, but still held my face securely with the hand against my cheek. His dark eyes did not free mine. I was too muddled to react, even to take advantage of the distraction.”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
“It was like someone had died-like I had died. Because it had to be more than just losing the truest of true love as if that were not enough to kill anyone. It was also losing a whole future, a whole family- the whole life that I'd chosen…
Mr. Anderson went on in a hopeless tone. ‘I don't know if she's going to get over it-I'm not sure if it's in her nature to heal from something like this. She's always been such a constant little thing. She doesn't get past things, change her mind.’
‘She's one of a kind,’ Olivia agreed in a dry voice.
‘And Olivia…’ Mr. Anderson hesitated. ‘Now, you know how fond I am of you, and I can tell that she's happy to see you, but… I'm a little worried about what your visit will do to her.’
‘So am I, Mr. Anderson, so am I. I wouldn't have come if I'd had any idea. I'm sorry.’
‘Don't apologize, honey. Who knows? Maybe it will be good for her.’
‘I hope you're right.’
There was a long break while Pittsburgh scraped plates and Mr. Anderson chewed.
I wondered where Olivia was hiding the food.
‘Olivia, I have to ask you something,’ Mr. Anderson said awkwardly.
Olivia was calm. ‘Go ahead.’
‘He's not coming back to visit, too, is he?’ I could hear the suppressed anger in Mr. Anderson’s voice.
Olivia answered in a soft, reassuring tone. ‘He doesn't even know I'm here.
The last time I spoke with him, he was in South America.’
I stiffened as I heard this added information and listened harder.
‘That's something, at least.’ Mr. Anderson snorted. ‘Well, I hope he's enjoying himself.’
For the first time, Olivia's voice had a bit of steel in it. ‘I wouldn't make assumptions, Mr. Anderson.’ I knew how her eyes would flash when she used that tone.
A chair scooted from the table, scraping loudly across the floor. I pictured Mr. Anderson getting up; there was no way Olivia would make that kind of noise. The faucet ran, splashing against a dish.”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
Mr. Anderson went on in a hopeless tone. ‘I don't know if she's going to get over it-I'm not sure if it's in her nature to heal from something like this. She's always been such a constant little thing. She doesn't get past things, change her mind.’
‘She's one of a kind,’ Olivia agreed in a dry voice.
‘And Olivia…’ Mr. Anderson hesitated. ‘Now, you know how fond I am of you, and I can tell that she's happy to see you, but… I'm a little worried about what your visit will do to her.’
‘So am I, Mr. Anderson, so am I. I wouldn't have come if I'd had any idea. I'm sorry.’
‘Don't apologize, honey. Who knows? Maybe it will be good for her.’
‘I hope you're right.’
There was a long break while Pittsburgh scraped plates and Mr. Anderson chewed.
I wondered where Olivia was hiding the food.
‘Olivia, I have to ask you something,’ Mr. Anderson said awkwardly.
Olivia was calm. ‘Go ahead.’
‘He's not coming back to visit, too, is he?’ I could hear the suppressed anger in Mr. Anderson’s voice.
Olivia answered in a soft, reassuring tone. ‘He doesn't even know I'm here.
The last time I spoke with him, he was in South America.’
I stiffened as I heard this added information and listened harder.
‘That's something, at least.’ Mr. Anderson snorted. ‘Well, I hope he's enjoying himself.’
For the first time, Olivia's voice had a bit of steel in it. ‘I wouldn't make assumptions, Mr. Anderson.’ I knew how her eyes would flash when she used that tone.
A chair scooted from the table, scraping loudly across the floor. I pictured Mr. Anderson getting up; there was no way Olivia would make that kind of noise. The faucet ran, splashing against a dish.”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
“She seems dazed like she hasn't grasped it yet. Sam's staying with her…’ The volume of his voice faded in and out. ‘Those poor kids. Leah's just a year older than you, and Seth is only fourteen…’ He shook his head.
He kept his arms tight around me as he started toward the door again.
‘Um, Dad?’ I figured I'd better warn him. ‘You'll never guess who's here.’
He looked at me blankly. His head swiveled around, and he spied the Mercedes across the street, the porch light reflecting off the glossy black paint.
Before he could react, Olivia was in the doorway.
‘Hi, Mr. Anderson,’ she said in a subdued voice. ‘I'm sorry I came at such an inconvenient time.’
‘Olivia?’ Peered at the slight figure in front of him as if he doubted what his eyes were telling him. ‘Olivia is that you?’
‘It's me,’ she confirmed. ‘I was in the neighborhood.’
‘Is Chiaz…?’
‘No, I'm alone.’
Both Olivia and I knew he wasn't asking about Chiaz. His arm tightened around my shoulder.
‘She can stay here, can't she?’ I pleaded. ‘I already asked her.’
‘Of course,’ Mr. Anderson said mechanically. ‘We'd love to have you, Olivia.’
‘Thank you, Mr. Anderson. I know it's horrid timing.’
‘No, it's fine. I'm going to be busy doing what I can for Harry's family; it will be nice for Karly to have some company.’
‘There's dinner for you on the table, Dad,’ I told him.
‘Thanks, Bell.’ He gave me one more squeeze before he shuffled toward the kitchen.
Olivia went back to the couch, and I followed her. This time, she was the one to pull me against her shoulder.
‘You look tired.’
‘Yeah,’ I agreed and shrugged. ‘Near-death experiences do that to me…
So, what does Chiaz think of you being here?”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
He kept his arms tight around me as he started toward the door again.
‘Um, Dad?’ I figured I'd better warn him. ‘You'll never guess who's here.’
He looked at me blankly. His head swiveled around, and he spied the Mercedes across the street, the porch light reflecting off the glossy black paint.
Before he could react, Olivia was in the doorway.
‘Hi, Mr. Anderson,’ she said in a subdued voice. ‘I'm sorry I came at such an inconvenient time.’
‘Olivia?’ Peered at the slight figure in front of him as if he doubted what his eyes were telling him. ‘Olivia is that you?’
‘It's me,’ she confirmed. ‘I was in the neighborhood.’
‘Is Chiaz…?’
‘No, I'm alone.’
Both Olivia and I knew he wasn't asking about Chiaz. His arm tightened around my shoulder.
‘She can stay here, can't she?’ I pleaded. ‘I already asked her.’
‘Of course,’ Mr. Anderson said mechanically. ‘We'd love to have you, Olivia.’
‘Thank you, Mr. Anderson. I know it's horrid timing.’
‘No, it's fine. I'm going to be busy doing what I can for Harry's family; it will be nice for Karly to have some company.’
‘There's dinner for you on the table, Dad,’ I told him.
‘Thanks, Bell.’ He gave me one more squeeze before he shuffled toward the kitchen.
Olivia went back to the couch, and I followed her. This time, she was the one to pull me against her shoulder.
‘You look tired.’
‘Yeah,’ I agreed and shrugged. ‘Near-death experiences do that to me…
So, what does Chiaz think of you being here?”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
“Bottomless
I took a deep breath. Olivia would be back. I suddenly felt so much better.
I had plenty to do to keep myself busy while I waited. A shower was first on the agenda. I sniffed my shoulders as I undressed, but I couldn't smell anything but the brine and seaweed scent of the ocean. I wondered what Olivia had meant about me smelling bad.
When I was cleaned up, I went back to the kitchen. I couldn't see any signs that Mr. Anderson’s child was eaten recently, and he would be hungry when he got back. I hummed tunelessly to myself as I moved around the kitchen.
While Thursday's casserole rotated in the microwave, I made up the couch with sheets and an old pillow. Olivia wouldn't need it, but Mr. Anderson would need to see it. I was careful not to watch the clock. There was no reason to start myself panicking; Olivia had promised.
I hurried through my dinner, not tasting it-just feeling the ache as it slid down my raw throat. Mostly I was thirsty; I must have drunk a half-gallon of water by the time I was finished. All the salt in my system had dehydrated me.
I went to go try to watch TV while I waited.
Olivia was already there, sitting on her improvised bed. Her eyes were liquid butterscotch. She smiled and patted the pillow. ‘Thanks.’
‘You're early,’ I said, elated.
I sat down next to her and leaned my head on her shoulder. She put her cold arms around me and sighed.
‘Bell. What are we going to do with you?’
‘I don't know,’ I admitted. ‘I have been trying my hardest.’
‘I believe you.’ It was silent.
‘Does-does he…’ I took a deep breath. It was harder to say his name out loud, even though I was able to think about it now. ‘Does Marcel know you're here?’ I couldn't help asking. It was my pain. I'd deal with it when she was gone, I promised myself, and felt sick at the thought.
‘No…’
There was only one way that could be true. ‘He's not with Chiaz and
Esme?’
‘He checks in every few months.’
‘Oh.’ He must still be out enjoying his distractions. I focused my curiosity on a safer topic. ‘You said you flew here… Where did you come from?’
‘I was in Denali. Visiting Tanya's family.’
‘Is he here? Did he come with you?’
She shook her head. ‘He didn't approve of my interfering. We promised…’ she trailed off, and then her tone changed. ‘And you think Mr. Anderson won't mind my being here?’ she asked, sounding worried.”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
I took a deep breath. Olivia would be back. I suddenly felt so much better.
I had plenty to do to keep myself busy while I waited. A shower was first on the agenda. I sniffed my shoulders as I undressed, but I couldn't smell anything but the brine and seaweed scent of the ocean. I wondered what Olivia had meant about me smelling bad.
When I was cleaned up, I went back to the kitchen. I couldn't see any signs that Mr. Anderson’s child was eaten recently, and he would be hungry when he got back. I hummed tunelessly to myself as I moved around the kitchen.
While Thursday's casserole rotated in the microwave, I made up the couch with sheets and an old pillow. Olivia wouldn't need it, but Mr. Anderson would need to see it. I was careful not to watch the clock. There was no reason to start myself panicking; Olivia had promised.
I hurried through my dinner, not tasting it-just feeling the ache as it slid down my raw throat. Mostly I was thirsty; I must have drunk a half-gallon of water by the time I was finished. All the salt in my system had dehydrated me.
I went to go try to watch TV while I waited.
Olivia was already there, sitting on her improvised bed. Her eyes were liquid butterscotch. She smiled and patted the pillow. ‘Thanks.’
‘You're early,’ I said, elated.
I sat down next to her and leaned my head on her shoulder. She put her cold arms around me and sighed.
‘Bell. What are we going to do with you?’
‘I don't know,’ I admitted. ‘I have been trying my hardest.’
‘I believe you.’ It was silent.
‘Does-does he…’ I took a deep breath. It was harder to say his name out loud, even though I was able to think about it now. ‘Does Marcel know you're here?’ I couldn't help asking. It was my pain. I'd deal with it when she was gone, I promised myself, and felt sick at the thought.
‘No…’
There was only one way that could be true. ‘He's not with Chiaz and
Esme?’
‘He checks in every few months.’
‘Oh.’ He must still be out enjoying his distractions. I focused my curiosity on a safer topic. ‘You said you flew here… Where did you come from?’
‘I was in Denali. Visiting Tanya's family.’
‘Is he here? Did he come with you?’
She shook her head. ‘He didn't approve of my interfering. We promised…’ she trailed off, and then her tone changed. ‘And you think Mr. Anderson won't mind my being here?’ she asked, sounding worried.”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
“Part: 1 July
This one more of how where I remember these days.
Photos online, and cam videos all that are my memories- of me to others.
Part: 2 August
Compare… them then and now- naked slut girl or 1940s modesty.
I remember having the old photo album spread out on the bedroom floor.
Oh! Wow! Look at this one… do you like how she was remembered better than me?
(Photo)
Part: 3
It's- September
More of the same- I have become a cam-whore!!! Nothing more…
Part: 4
OCTOBER
…And yah- a, ah- pics that would make you blush, and hard, you boys would love to see me, now, wouldn’t you?
Part: 5
NOVEMBER
Making cummie videos is my life.
Part: 6
DECEMBER
Coming 7 hours out of the day is taking time away from other things.
Part: 7
WAKING UP
…After fraping till- I passed out all hot gross and sweaty, I did not remember falling asleep- with mom and dad- sis and the world seeing me as my door to my trashed bedroom- all jammed open- and’s- and’s- AND’S- did not care at this point. (SAY IT WITH exhausted SLURRING.)
JANUARY yet how- ga-gives- a ________.
Ef…
E- un- mm- ah- in-n…
Whatever…
I am making 50 G’s in a night… so that makes it okay.
(A photo of me lying in bed with all this money!)
Part: 8
TIME PASSES
Craziness… look at my life here… all board…
‘I am home,’ I mumbled, confused- not even more.
‘What did I do?’ I felt my face wrinkle. It was so unfair.
My behavior… here is wow…
After that first week… of doing this…
How do I look… which neither of us ever mentioned what we do?
I hadn't missed a day of school or work.
My grades were perfect.
Yet this show is all going to shit- no?
This is what I did here… showing everything that makes me a girl!
Now I am passing down- to her- yah me- is it wrong? I must live with it.
#- A cam video and all these photos of her online now are worth 1,000 words! #-0-okay then what does this one says then?
My little sis- and she is frapping harder than I do- in this- damn, she is my Minnie me! She started younger than me even- yet that is all girls, her age.
Here is one with her dressed wow seem weird to see her with something on anymore-
(Swipe- and the phone in your hand would make a click sound…)
Oh, this one-
She loves these beautiful white lace kid’s girls’ shorts- so girlie- girly- from Wal-Mart, yet she was banned from wearing them in school without anything under them, yet I look around and all other girls do it.
Yet, on Facebook- and Instagram 1, you get one persona and on Google images a whole other- just like Snapchat you have her as your girlfriend for the night yet have- yet she is your striptease only- and the other Instagram- that grammar should never- ever see- yet this is how to get popular- and stay popular.
Besides then there is the community of internet nudists- on MFC. And the profile- she now has too, a legacy to be remembered by, no? Yet, when you have no education to speak of and working for some d*ck head is just out of the question, over they think you’re not worthy of their time- were you're not making anything, and at this point in Pa she too young to work, yet is old enough to have unprotected sex… Um- and then I wonder- yet she needs the money- for school coming up because your mommy and daddy don’t have it, and all for fun, boys, and a girl's night of fun- and partying- and being crazy. Money is everything… and why girls do what they must do…”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
This one more of how where I remember these days.
Photos online, and cam videos all that are my memories- of me to others.
Part: 2 August
Compare… them then and now- naked slut girl or 1940s modesty.
I remember having the old photo album spread out on the bedroom floor.
Oh! Wow! Look at this one… do you like how she was remembered better than me?
(Photo)
Part: 3
It's- September
More of the same- I have become a cam-whore!!! Nothing more…
Part: 4
OCTOBER
…And yah- a, ah- pics that would make you blush, and hard, you boys would love to see me, now, wouldn’t you?
Part: 5
NOVEMBER
Making cummie videos is my life.
Part: 6
DECEMBER
Coming 7 hours out of the day is taking time away from other things.
Part: 7
WAKING UP
…After fraping till- I passed out all hot gross and sweaty, I did not remember falling asleep- with mom and dad- sis and the world seeing me as my door to my trashed bedroom- all jammed open- and’s- and’s- AND’S- did not care at this point. (SAY IT WITH exhausted SLURRING.)
JANUARY yet how- ga-gives- a ________.
Ef…
E- un- mm- ah- in-n…
Whatever…
I am making 50 G’s in a night… so that makes it okay.
(A photo of me lying in bed with all this money!)
Part: 8
TIME PASSES
Craziness… look at my life here… all board…
‘I am home,’ I mumbled, confused- not even more.
‘What did I do?’ I felt my face wrinkle. It was so unfair.
My behavior… here is wow…
After that first week… of doing this…
How do I look… which neither of us ever mentioned what we do?
I hadn't missed a day of school or work.
My grades were perfect.
Yet this show is all going to shit- no?
This is what I did here… showing everything that makes me a girl!
Now I am passing down- to her- yah me- is it wrong? I must live with it.
#- A cam video and all these photos of her online now are worth 1,000 words! #-0-okay then what does this one says then?
My little sis- and she is frapping harder than I do- in this- damn, she is my Minnie me! She started younger than me even- yet that is all girls, her age.
Here is one with her dressed wow seem weird to see her with something on anymore-
(Swipe- and the phone in your hand would make a click sound…)
Oh, this one-
She loves these beautiful white lace kid’s girls’ shorts- so girlie- girly- from Wal-Mart, yet she was banned from wearing them in school without anything under them, yet I look around and all other girls do it.
Yet, on Facebook- and Instagram 1, you get one persona and on Google images a whole other- just like Snapchat you have her as your girlfriend for the night yet have- yet she is your striptease only- and the other Instagram- that grammar should never- ever see- yet this is how to get popular- and stay popular.
Besides then there is the community of internet nudists- on MFC. And the profile- she now has too, a legacy to be remembered by, no? Yet, when you have no education to speak of and working for some d*ck head is just out of the question, over they think you’re not worthy of their time- were you're not making anything, and at this point in Pa she too young to work, yet is old enough to have unprotected sex… Um- and then I wonder- yet she needs the money- for school coming up because your mommy and daddy don’t have it, and all for fun, boys, and a girl's night of fun- and partying- and being crazy. Money is everything… and why girls do what they must do…”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
“You must never, never, never think of anything like that again!’ I spoke. ‘No matter what might ever happen to me, you are not allowed to hurt yourself!’
‘I'll never put you in danger again, so it's a moot point.’
‘Put me in danger! I thought we'd established that all the bad luck is my fault?’ I was getting angrier. ‘How dare you even think like that?’ The idea of Marcel ceasing to exist, even if I were dead, was impossibly painful.
‘What would you do, if the situation were reversed?’ He asked.
‘That's not the same thing.’
He didn't seem to understand the difference. He chuckled.
‘What if something did happen to you?’ I blanched at the thought. ‘Would you want me to go off myself?’
A trace of pain touched his perfect features.
‘I guess I see your point… a little,’ he admitted. ‘But what would I do without you?’
‘Whatever you were doing before I came along and complicated your existence.’
He sighed. ‘You make that sound so easy.’
‘It should be. I'm not that interesting.’
He was about to argue, but then he let it go. ‘Moot point,’ he reminded me. Abruptly, he pulled himself up into a more formal posture, shifting me to the side so that we were no longer touching.
‘Mr. Anderson?’ I guessed.”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
‘I'll never put you in danger again, so it's a moot point.’
‘Put me in danger! I thought we'd established that all the bad luck is my fault?’ I was getting angrier. ‘How dare you even think like that?’ The idea of Marcel ceasing to exist, even if I were dead, was impossibly painful.
‘What would you do, if the situation were reversed?’ He asked.
‘That's not the same thing.’
He didn't seem to understand the difference. He chuckled.
‘What if something did happen to you?’ I blanched at the thought. ‘Would you want me to go off myself?’
A trace of pain touched his perfect features.
‘I guess I see your point… a little,’ he admitted. ‘But what would I do without you?’
‘Whatever you were doing before I came along and complicated your existence.’
He sighed. ‘You make that sound so easy.’
‘It should be. I'm not that interesting.’
He was about to argue, but then he let it go. ‘Moot point,’ he reminded me. Abruptly, he pulled himself up into a more formal posture, shifting me to the side so that we were no longer touching.
‘Mr. Anderson?’ I guessed.”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
“Marcel and Olivia didn't find this minor elimination fragmentary or dangerous the way I would hold.
They scarcely noticed this at all.
Characters always felt remarkably hostile at leisure with the Barn’s, around anxious for some purpose they couldn't justify to themselves.
I implied a unique exemption to that precept. Seldom confused Marcel whence very satisfied I was withstanding adjacent to him.
He deemed he was dangerous to my health-a feeling I rejected vehemently whenever he uttered that.
The midday moved briskly.
School completed, and Marcel walked me to my truck as he customarily prepared. Disregarding this time, he held the pilgrim entrance open for me. Olivia must have obtained it using his automobile home so that he could restrain me from making a charge for this.
I wrapped my arms and performed no move to get out of the downpour. ‘It's my birthday, don't I get to drive?’
‘I'm faking it's not your birthday, just as you yearned.’
‘If it's not my birthday, then I don't have to proceed to your home later…’
‘All right,’ He closed the passenger door and shuffled past me to open the driver's side. ‘Happy birthday.’
‘Sh-h,’ I shushed him halfheartedly. I climbed through the opened door, begging he'd exercised the other suggestion.
Marcel played with the radio while I drove, shaking his head in dissatisfaction.
‘Your radio has awful treatments.’
I scowled; I didn't like it when he picked on my truck. The truck was transcendent and it had nature.
‘You want a pleasant stereo? Drive your vehicle.’ I was so annoyed about Olivia's plans, on top of my already discouraged feeling, that the words came out sharper than I'd anticipated them.
I was barely ever bad-tempered with Marcel, and my tone made him press his lips together to keep from smiling.
When I parked in front of Mr. Anderson’s house, he stretched over to take my face in his hands.
He handled me very thoroughly, touching just the tips of his fingers softly against my temples, my cheekbones, my jawline. Like I was exceptionally breakable.”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
They scarcely noticed this at all.
Characters always felt remarkably hostile at leisure with the Barn’s, around anxious for some purpose they couldn't justify to themselves.
I implied a unique exemption to that precept. Seldom confused Marcel whence very satisfied I was withstanding adjacent to him.
He deemed he was dangerous to my health-a feeling I rejected vehemently whenever he uttered that.
The midday moved briskly.
School completed, and Marcel walked me to my truck as he customarily prepared. Disregarding this time, he held the pilgrim entrance open for me. Olivia must have obtained it using his automobile home so that he could restrain me from making a charge for this.
I wrapped my arms and performed no move to get out of the downpour. ‘It's my birthday, don't I get to drive?’
‘I'm faking it's not your birthday, just as you yearned.’
‘If it's not my birthday, then I don't have to proceed to your home later…’
‘All right,’ He closed the passenger door and shuffled past me to open the driver's side. ‘Happy birthday.’
‘Sh-h,’ I shushed him halfheartedly. I climbed through the opened door, begging he'd exercised the other suggestion.
Marcel played with the radio while I drove, shaking his head in dissatisfaction.
‘Your radio has awful treatments.’
I scowled; I didn't like it when he picked on my truck. The truck was transcendent and it had nature.
‘You want a pleasant stereo? Drive your vehicle.’ I was so annoyed about Olivia's plans, on top of my already discouraged feeling, that the words came out sharper than I'd anticipated them.
I was barely ever bad-tempered with Marcel, and my tone made him press his lips together to keep from smiling.
When I parked in front of Mr. Anderson’s house, he stretched over to take my face in his hands.
He handled me very thoroughly, touching just the tips of his fingers softly against my temples, my cheekbones, my jawline. Like I was exceptionally breakable.”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
“Wishes
Mindfulness is nevermore a good thing, as any other accident-prone fumbler would accept. No one wants a floodlight when they're likely to stumble on their face.
Moreover, I would extremely pointedly be asked- well, ordered really-that no one gave me any presents this year. It seemed like Mr. Anderson and Ayanna weren't the only ones who had decided to overlook that.
I would have never had much wealth, furthermore, that had never more disturbed me. Ayanna had raised me on a kindergarten teacher's wage.
Mr. Anderson wasn't getting rich at his job, either; he was the police chief here in the tiny town of Pittsburgh.
My only personal revenue came from the four days a week I worked at the local Goodwill store. In a borough this small, I was blessed to have a career, after all the viruses in the world today having everything shut down.
Every cent I gained went into my diminutive university endowment at SNHU online.
(College transpired like nothing more than a Plan B. I was still dreaming for Plan A; however, Marcel was just so unreasonable about leaving me, mortal.)
Marcel ought to have a lot of funds I didn't even want to think about how much. Cash was involved alongside oblivion to Marcel or the rest of the Barns, like Karly saying she never had anything yet walked away with it all.
It was just something that swelled when you had extensive time on your hands and a sister who had an uncanny ability to predict trends in the stock market.
Marcel didn't seem to explain why I objected to him spending bills on me, why it made me miserable if he brought me to an overpriced establishment in Los Angeles, why he wasn't allowed to buy me a car that could reach speeds over fifty miles an hour, approximately how? I wouldn't let him pay my university tuition (he was ridiculously enthusiastic about Plan B.)
Marcel believed I was being gratuitously difficult.
Although, how could I let him give me things when I had nothing to retaliate amidst?
He, for some amazing incomprehensible understanding, wanted to be with me. Anything he gave me on top of that just propelled us more out of balance.
As the day went on, neither Marcel nor Olivia brought my birthday up again, and I began to relax a little.
Then we sat at our usual table for lunch.
An unfamiliar kind of break survived at that table. The three of us, Marcel, Olivia, including myself hunkered down on the steep southerly end of the table. Now that is ‘superb’ and scarier (in Emmah's case, unquestionably.)
The Natalie siblings had finished. We were gazing at them; they're so odd, Olivia and Marcel arranged not to seem quite so intimidating, and we did not sit here alone.
My other compatriots, Lance, and Mikaela (who were in the uncomfortable post-breakup association phase,) Mollie and Sam (whose involvement had endured the summertime...)
Tim, Kaylah, Skylar, and Sophie (though that last one didn't count in the friend category.)
Completely assembled at the same table, on the other side of an interchangeable line.
That line softened on sunshiny days when Marcel and Olivia continuously skipped school times before there was Karly, and then the discussion would swell out effortlessly to incorporate me.”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
Mindfulness is nevermore a good thing, as any other accident-prone fumbler would accept. No one wants a floodlight when they're likely to stumble on their face.
Moreover, I would extremely pointedly be asked- well, ordered really-that no one gave me any presents this year. It seemed like Mr. Anderson and Ayanna weren't the only ones who had decided to overlook that.
I would have never had much wealth, furthermore, that had never more disturbed me. Ayanna had raised me on a kindergarten teacher's wage.
Mr. Anderson wasn't getting rich at his job, either; he was the police chief here in the tiny town of Pittsburgh.
My only personal revenue came from the four days a week I worked at the local Goodwill store. In a borough this small, I was blessed to have a career, after all the viruses in the world today having everything shut down.
Every cent I gained went into my diminutive university endowment at SNHU online.
(College transpired like nothing more than a Plan B. I was still dreaming for Plan A; however, Marcel was just so unreasonable about leaving me, mortal.)
Marcel ought to have a lot of funds I didn't even want to think about how much. Cash was involved alongside oblivion to Marcel or the rest of the Barns, like Karly saying she never had anything yet walked away with it all.
It was just something that swelled when you had extensive time on your hands and a sister who had an uncanny ability to predict trends in the stock market.
Marcel didn't seem to explain why I objected to him spending bills on me, why it made me miserable if he brought me to an overpriced establishment in Los Angeles, why he wasn't allowed to buy me a car that could reach speeds over fifty miles an hour, approximately how? I wouldn't let him pay my university tuition (he was ridiculously enthusiastic about Plan B.)
Marcel believed I was being gratuitously difficult.
Although, how could I let him give me things when I had nothing to retaliate amidst?
He, for some amazing incomprehensible understanding, wanted to be with me. Anything he gave me on top of that just propelled us more out of balance.
As the day went on, neither Marcel nor Olivia brought my birthday up again, and I began to relax a little.
Then we sat at our usual table for lunch.
An unfamiliar kind of break survived at that table. The three of us, Marcel, Olivia, including myself hunkered down on the steep southerly end of the table. Now that is ‘superb’ and scarier (in Emmah's case, unquestionably.)
The Natalie siblings had finished. We were gazing at them; they're so odd, Olivia and Marcel arranged not to seem quite so intimidating, and we did not sit here alone.
My other compatriots, Lance, and Mikaela (who were in the uncomfortable post-breakup association phase,) Mollie and Sam (whose involvement had endured the summertime...)
Tim, Kaylah, Skylar, and Sophie (though that last one didn't count in the friend category.)
Completely assembled at the same table, on the other side of an interchangeable line.
That line softened on sunshiny days when Marcel and Olivia continuously skipped school times before there was Karly, and then the discussion would swell out effortlessly to incorporate me.”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
“No, I'll mostly be watching you, anyway.’ His fingers traced patterns across the skin of my arm, raising goosebumps. ‘Will you cry?’
‘Probably,’ I admitted, ‘if I'm paying attention.’
‘I won't distract you then.’ But I felt his lips on my hair, and it was very distracting.
The movie eventually captured my interest, thanks in large part to Marcel whispering Romeo's lines in my ear-his irresistible, velvet voice made the actor's voice sound week and coarse by comparison. And I did cry, to his amusement, when Juliet woke and found her new husband dead.
‘I'll admit, I do sort of envy him here, ‘Marcel said, drying the tears with a lock of my hair.
‘She's very pretty.’
He made a disgusted sound. ‘I don't envy him the girl-just the ease of the suicide,’ he clarified in a teasing tone. ‘You humans have it so easy! All you have to do is throw down one tiny vial of plant extracts…’ ‘What?’ I gasped.
‘It's something I had to think about once, and I knew from Chiaz's experience that it wouldn't be simple. I'm not even sure how many ways Chiaz tried to kill himself in the beginning… after he realized what he'd become…’ His voice, which had grown serious, turned light again. ‘And he's still in excellent health.’
I twisted around so that I could read his face. ‘What are you talking about?’
I demanded. ‘What do you mean, this something you had to think about once?’
‘Last spring, when you were… nearly killed…’ He paused to take a deep breath, snuggling to return to his teasing tone. ‘Of course, I was trying to focus on finding you alive, but part of my mind was making contingency plans. As I said, it's not as easy for me as it is for a human.’
For one second, the memory of my last trip to Phoenix washed over my head and made me feel dizzy. I could see it all so clearly-the the blinding sun, the heat waves coming off the concrete as I ran with desperate haste to find the sadistic angel who wanted to torture me to death. James, waiting in the mirrored room with my mother as his hostage-or so I'd thought. I hadn't known it was all a ruse. Just as James hadn't known that Marcel was racing to save me; Marcel made it in time, but it had been a close one. Unthinkingly, my fingers traced the crescent-shaped scar on my hand that was always just a few degrees cooler than the rest of my skin.
I shook my head as if I could shake away the bad memories and tried to grasp what Marcel meant. My stomach plunged uncomfortably. ‘Contingency plans?’ I repeated.
‘Well, I wasn't going to live without you.’ He rolled his eyes as if that fact were childishly obvious. ‘But I wasn't sure how to do it- I knew Emmah and Joh would never help… so I was thinking maybe I would go to Italy and do something to provoke the Ministry.’
I didn't want to believe he was serious, but his golden eyes were brooding, focused on something far away in the distance as he contemplated ways to end his own life. Abruptly, I was furious.
‘What is Vulture?’ I demanded.
‘The Ministry is a family,’ he explained, his eyes still remote. ‘A very old, very powerful family of our kind. They are the closest thing our world has to a royal family, I suppose. Chiaz lived with them briefly in his early years, in Italy, before he settled in America-do you remember the story?’
‘Of course, I remember.”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
‘Probably,’ I admitted, ‘if I'm paying attention.’
‘I won't distract you then.’ But I felt his lips on my hair, and it was very distracting.
The movie eventually captured my interest, thanks in large part to Marcel whispering Romeo's lines in my ear-his irresistible, velvet voice made the actor's voice sound week and coarse by comparison. And I did cry, to his amusement, when Juliet woke and found her new husband dead.
‘I'll admit, I do sort of envy him here, ‘Marcel said, drying the tears with a lock of my hair.
‘She's very pretty.’
He made a disgusted sound. ‘I don't envy him the girl-just the ease of the suicide,’ he clarified in a teasing tone. ‘You humans have it so easy! All you have to do is throw down one tiny vial of plant extracts…’ ‘What?’ I gasped.
‘It's something I had to think about once, and I knew from Chiaz's experience that it wouldn't be simple. I'm not even sure how many ways Chiaz tried to kill himself in the beginning… after he realized what he'd become…’ His voice, which had grown serious, turned light again. ‘And he's still in excellent health.’
I twisted around so that I could read his face. ‘What are you talking about?’
I demanded. ‘What do you mean, this something you had to think about once?’
‘Last spring, when you were… nearly killed…’ He paused to take a deep breath, snuggling to return to his teasing tone. ‘Of course, I was trying to focus on finding you alive, but part of my mind was making contingency plans. As I said, it's not as easy for me as it is for a human.’
For one second, the memory of my last trip to Phoenix washed over my head and made me feel dizzy. I could see it all so clearly-the the blinding sun, the heat waves coming off the concrete as I ran with desperate haste to find the sadistic angel who wanted to torture me to death. James, waiting in the mirrored room with my mother as his hostage-or so I'd thought. I hadn't known it was all a ruse. Just as James hadn't known that Marcel was racing to save me; Marcel made it in time, but it had been a close one. Unthinkingly, my fingers traced the crescent-shaped scar on my hand that was always just a few degrees cooler than the rest of my skin.
I shook my head as if I could shake away the bad memories and tried to grasp what Marcel meant. My stomach plunged uncomfortably. ‘Contingency plans?’ I repeated.
‘Well, I wasn't going to live without you.’ He rolled his eyes as if that fact were childishly obvious. ‘But I wasn't sure how to do it- I knew Emmah and Joh would never help… so I was thinking maybe I would go to Italy and do something to provoke the Ministry.’
I didn't want to believe he was serious, but his golden eyes were brooding, focused on something far away in the distance as he contemplated ways to end his own life. Abruptly, I was furious.
‘What is Vulture?’ I demanded.
‘The Ministry is a family,’ he explained, his eyes still remote. ‘A very old, very powerful family of our kind. They are the closest thing our world has to a royal family, I suppose. Chiaz lived with them briefly in his early years, in Italy, before he settled in America-do you remember the story?’
‘Of course, I remember.”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
“I was barely ever bad-tempered with Marcel, and my tone made him press his lips together to keep from smiling.
When I parked in front of Mr. Anderson’s house, he stretched over to take my face in his hands.
He handled me very thoroughly, touching just the tips of his fingers softly against my temples, my cheekbones, my jawline. Like I was exceptionally breakable.
Which was specifically the case-compared with him, at most limited.
‘You should be in a good mood, today of all days,’ he muttered.
His unseasoned breath crossed my face.
‘Moreover, if I don't want to be in a good mood?’ I asked, my breathing irregular.
His golden eyes smoldered. ‘Too bad.’
My head was already spinning by the time he leaned closer and pressed his icy lips against mine. As he intended, no doubt, I forgot all about my worries and concentrated on remembering how to inhale and exhale.
His mouth lingered on mine, cold and smooth and gentle until I wrapped my arms around his neck and threw myself into the kiss with a little too much enthusiasm. I could feel his lips curve upward as he let go of my face and reached back to unlock my grip on him.
Marcel had drawn many careful lines for our physical relationship, with the intent being to keep me alive. Though I respected the need for maintaining a safe distance between my skin and his razor-sharp, venom-coated teeth, I tended to forget about trivial things like that when he was kissing me.
‘Be good, please,’ he breathed against my cheek. He pressed his lips gently to mine one more time and then pulled away, folding my arms across my stomach.
My pulse was thudding in my ears. I put one hand over my heart. It drummed hyperactivity under my palm.
‘Do you think I'll ever get better at this?’ I wondered, mostly to myself. ‘That my heart might someday stop trying to jump out of my chest whenever you touch me?’
‘I hope not,’ he said, a bit smug.
I rolled my eyes. ‘Let's go watch the Capulets and Montagues hack each other up, all right?’
‘Your wish, my command.’
Marcel sprawled on the couch while I started the movie, fast-forwarding through the opening credits.”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
When I parked in front of Mr. Anderson’s house, he stretched over to take my face in his hands.
He handled me very thoroughly, touching just the tips of his fingers softly against my temples, my cheekbones, my jawline. Like I was exceptionally breakable.
Which was specifically the case-compared with him, at most limited.
‘You should be in a good mood, today of all days,’ he muttered.
His unseasoned breath crossed my face.
‘Moreover, if I don't want to be in a good mood?’ I asked, my breathing irregular.
His golden eyes smoldered. ‘Too bad.’
My head was already spinning by the time he leaned closer and pressed his icy lips against mine. As he intended, no doubt, I forgot all about my worries and concentrated on remembering how to inhale and exhale.
His mouth lingered on mine, cold and smooth and gentle until I wrapped my arms around his neck and threw myself into the kiss with a little too much enthusiasm. I could feel his lips curve upward as he let go of my face and reached back to unlock my grip on him.
Marcel had drawn many careful lines for our physical relationship, with the intent being to keep me alive. Though I respected the need for maintaining a safe distance between my skin and his razor-sharp, venom-coated teeth, I tended to forget about trivial things like that when he was kissing me.
‘Be good, please,’ he breathed against my cheek. He pressed his lips gently to mine one more time and then pulled away, folding my arms across my stomach.
My pulse was thudding in my ears. I put one hand over my heart. It drummed hyperactivity under my palm.
‘Do you think I'll ever get better at this?’ I wondered, mostly to myself. ‘That my heart might someday stop trying to jump out of my chest whenever you touch me?’
‘I hope not,’ he said, a bit smug.
I rolled my eyes. ‘Let's go watch the Capulets and Montagues hack each other up, all right?’
‘Your wish, my command.’
Marcel sprawled on the couch while I started the movie, fast-forwarding through the opening credits.”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
“An unfamiliar kind of break survived at that table. The three of us, Marcel, Olivia, including myself hunkered down on the steep southerly end of the table. Now that is ‘superb’ and scarier (in Emmah's case, unquestionably.)
The Natalie siblings had finished. We were gazing at them; they're so odd, Olivia and Marcel arranged not to seem quite so intimidating, and we did not sit here alone.
My other compatriots, Lance, and Mikaela (who were in the uncomfortable post-breakup association phase,) Mollie and Sam (whose involvement had endured the summertime...)
Tim, Kaylah, Skylar, and Sophie (though that last one didn't count in the friend category.)
Completely assembled at the same table, on the other side of an interchangeable line.
That line softened on sunshiny days when Marcel and Olivia continuously skipped school times before there was Karly, and then the discussion would swell out effortlessly to incorporate me.
Marcel and Olivia didn't find this minor elimination fragmentary or dangerous the way I would hold.
They scarcely noticed this at all.
Characters always felt remarkably hostile at leisure with the Barn’s, around anxious for some purpose they couldn't justify to themselves.
I implied a unique exemption to that precept. Seldom confused Marcel whence very satisfied I was withstanding adjacent to him.
He deemed he was dangerous to my health-a feeling I rejected vehemently whenever he uttered that.
The midday moved briskly.
School completed, and Marcel walked me to my truck as he customarily prepared. Disregarding this time, he held the pilgrim entrance open for me. Olivia must have obtained it using his automobile home so that he could restrain me from making a charge for this.
I wrapped my arms and performed no move to get out of the downpour. ‘It's my birthday, don't I get to drive?’
‘I'm faking it's not your birthday, just as you yearned.’
‘If it's not my birthday, then I don't have to proceed to your home later…”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
The Natalie siblings had finished. We were gazing at them; they're so odd, Olivia and Marcel arranged not to seem quite so intimidating, and we did not sit here alone.
My other compatriots, Lance, and Mikaela (who were in the uncomfortable post-breakup association phase,) Mollie and Sam (whose involvement had endured the summertime...)
Tim, Kaylah, Skylar, and Sophie (though that last one didn't count in the friend category.)
Completely assembled at the same table, on the other side of an interchangeable line.
That line softened on sunshiny days when Marcel and Olivia continuously skipped school times before there was Karly, and then the discussion would swell out effortlessly to incorporate me.
Marcel and Olivia didn't find this minor elimination fragmentary or dangerous the way I would hold.
They scarcely noticed this at all.
Characters always felt remarkably hostile at leisure with the Barn’s, around anxious for some purpose they couldn't justify to themselves.
I implied a unique exemption to that precept. Seldom confused Marcel whence very satisfied I was withstanding adjacent to him.
He deemed he was dangerous to my health-a feeling I rejected vehemently whenever he uttered that.
The midday moved briskly.
School completed, and Marcel walked me to my truck as he customarily prepared. Disregarding this time, he held the pilgrim entrance open for me. Olivia must have obtained it using his automobile home so that he could restrain me from making a charge for this.
I wrapped my arms and performed no move to get out of the downpour. ‘It's my birthday, don't I get to drive?’
‘I'm faking it's not your birthday, just as you yearned.’
‘If it's not my birthday, then I don't have to proceed to your home later…”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
“Mindfulness is nevermore a good thing, as any other accident-prone fumbler would accept. No one wants a floodlight when they're likely to stumble on their face.
Moreover, I would extremely pointedly be asked- well, ordered really-that no one gave me any presents this year. It seemed like Mr. Anderson and Ayanna weren't the only ones who had decided to overlook that.
I would have never had much wealth, furthermore, that had never more disturbed me. Ayanna had raised me on a kindergarten teacher's wage.
Mr. Anderson wasn't getting rich at his job, either; he was the police chief here in the tiny town of Pittsburgh.
My only personal revenue came from the four days a week I worked at the local Goodwill store. In a borough this small, I was blessed to have a career, after all the viruses in the world today having everything shut down.
Every cent I gained went into my diminutive university endowment at SNHU online.
(College transpired like nothing more than a Plan B. I was still dreaming for Plan A; however, Marcel was just so unreasonable about leaving me, mortal.)
Marcel ought to have a lot of funds I didn't even want to think about how much. Cash was involved alongside oblivion to Marcel or the rest of the Barns, like Karly saying she never had anything yet walked away with it all.
It was just something that swelled when you had extensive time on your hands and a sister who had an uncanny ability to predict trends in the stock market.”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
Moreover, I would extremely pointedly be asked- well, ordered really-that no one gave me any presents this year. It seemed like Mr. Anderson and Ayanna weren't the only ones who had decided to overlook that.
I would have never had much wealth, furthermore, that had never more disturbed me. Ayanna had raised me on a kindergarten teacher's wage.
Mr. Anderson wasn't getting rich at his job, either; he was the police chief here in the tiny town of Pittsburgh.
My only personal revenue came from the four days a week I worked at the local Goodwill store. In a borough this small, I was blessed to have a career, after all the viruses in the world today having everything shut down.
Every cent I gained went into my diminutive university endowment at SNHU online.
(College transpired like nothing more than a Plan B. I was still dreaming for Plan A; however, Marcel was just so unreasonable about leaving me, mortal.)
Marcel ought to have a lot of funds I didn't even want to think about how much. Cash was involved alongside oblivion to Marcel or the rest of the Barns, like Karly saying she never had anything yet walked away with it all.
It was just something that swelled when you had extensive time on your hands and a sister who had an uncanny ability to predict trends in the stock market.”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
“I previously spoke to Mrs. Newton of such… She's trading your shifts. She spoke to inform you she wishes you a: 'Happy Birthday.''
‘I- yet can't come over,’ I resolved, clambering for an excuse. ‘I, well, I mustn't watch Romeo and Juliet yet for English.’
Olivia squealed, ‘You have Romeo and Juliet memorized.’
‘Although Mr. Smith proclaimed, we obliged to notice it performed to thoroughly acknowledge it that's how Shakespeare intended it to be presented.’
Marcel rolled his eyes.
‘You've already seen the movie,’ Olivia accused.
‘Although not the nineteen-sixties version. Mr. Smith said it was the best.’
Subsequently, Olivia lost the self-satisfied smile and glared at me.
‘This can be obvious, or this can be troublesome, Bell, but one way or the others’
Marcel interrupted her threat. ‘Relax, Olivia. If Karly wants to watch a movie, then she can. It's her birthday.’
‘So there,’ I added.
‘I'll bring her over around seven,’ he continued. ‘That will give you more time to set up.’
Olivia's howling sounded again. ‘Sounds immeasurable good. See you tonight, Bell! It'll be fun, you'll see.’ She grinned- the wide smile revealed all her perfect, glistening teeth-then pecked me on the cheek and danced off moving her first class before I could respond.
‘Marcel, please-’ I started to beg, but he clasped one crisp finger to my lips.
‘Let's review it later. We're going to be late for school.’
No one bothered to stare at us as we took our representative seats in the back of the classroom (we should almost every class together now-it was amazing the favors Marcel could get the female administrators to do for him.)”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
‘I- yet can't come over,’ I resolved, clambering for an excuse. ‘I, well, I mustn't watch Romeo and Juliet yet for English.’
Olivia squealed, ‘You have Romeo and Juliet memorized.’
‘Although Mr. Smith proclaimed, we obliged to notice it performed to thoroughly acknowledge it that's how Shakespeare intended it to be presented.’
Marcel rolled his eyes.
‘You've already seen the movie,’ Olivia accused.
‘Although not the nineteen-sixties version. Mr. Smith said it was the best.’
Subsequently, Olivia lost the self-satisfied smile and glared at me.
‘This can be obvious, or this can be troublesome, Bell, but one way or the others’
Marcel interrupted her threat. ‘Relax, Olivia. If Karly wants to watch a movie, then she can. It's her birthday.’
‘So there,’ I added.
‘I'll bring her over around seven,’ he continued. ‘That will give you more time to set up.’
Olivia's howling sounded again. ‘Sounds immeasurable good. See you tonight, Bell! It'll be fun, you'll see.’ She grinned- the wide smile revealed all her perfect, glistening teeth-then pecked me on the cheek and danced off moving her first class before I could respond.
‘Marcel, please-’ I started to beg, but he clasped one crisp finger to my lips.
‘Let's review it later. We're going to be late for school.’
No one bothered to stare at us as we took our representative seats in the back of the classroom (we should almost every class together now-it was amazing the favors Marcel could get the female administrators to do for him.)”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
“Letting go
‘Technically,’ she said, gripping her tone of knowledge. ‘Simply by one little year, though.’
And I understood… if I could be sure of the expectation I required, sure that I would get to spend always with Marcel, and Olivia and the rest of the Barn’s like my little sis Kattie- may, she is on three, (willingly not as a wrinkled tiny old lady…) at that following a year or two one course or the other wouldn't matter to me so considerably.”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
‘Technically,’ she said, gripping her tone of knowledge. ‘Simply by one little year, though.’
And I understood… if I could be sure of the expectation I required, sure that I would get to spend always with Marcel, and Olivia and the rest of the Barn’s like my little sis Kattie- may, she is on three, (willingly not as a wrinkled tiny old lady…) at that following a year or two one course or the other wouldn't matter to me so considerably.”
― Nevaeh Hard to Let Go
